The Heart's Unveiled Passion
by Phantom of Love
Summary: Erik wakes after a strange dream with a new way of looking at the Vicomte de Chagny. He begins to think more deeply about his feelings for Christine and how his recent revelations could change everything.
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER:**

**I do not in any way, shape, or form own any part of "The Phantom of the Opera" in any of its various representations.**

**Original novel "Les Fantome de l'Opera" was by Gaston Leroux.**

**My story is based on Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical (the 2004 movie version) starring Gerard Butler, Patrick Wilson, and Emmy Rossum.**

**My story features several direct qoutes from the movie, which I use to compare the time frame of my story with that of the movie's.**

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_Prologue: Erik's Dream_

Erik saw Christine standing alone in a cemetery. He watched as she kneeled in front of a tombstone, placing a bouquet of lilies before it. He could tell she was holding back tears… He wanted to comfort her, guide her, embrace her to make all her pain disappear, but he couldn't move. Something was holding him back. He struggled desperately to escape from the wicked silver hands holding him, but it was no use. "Christine!" he shouted, trying to reach her. She didn't hear him. "CHRISTINE!!! Angel of music!!!" Still, his words fell upon seemingly deaf ears.

He paused his fight as he saw Christine pick up a second bouquet of flowers… these were roses bound in one thick black ribbon. Erik sat in disbelief as she placed the roses by a tombstone immediately next to the first. She placed the roses with an angel's touch, and her hand did not leave the flowers. Erik sensed it, the moment of silence before… she cried. Tears began streaming down her face, and Erik screamed like never before; "I must be with her! CHRISTINE!!!" Yet the silver hands gripped his chest ever stronger as he watched Christine's tears, heartbroken. "Christine…"

He looked down at the silver hands grasping him, flowing like a liquid mirror. He gripped the silver wrists, and pulled with all his heart and soul. He wrenched himself free from the icy grip, and laughed gleefully as the silver mass crumpled to the ground. He turned to run to Christine and hold her close, but he stopped dead in his tracks. Christine was gone. Erik let out a moan of anguish, for in her place was Raoul de Chagny. Erik could feel his hatred brew in his heart, and he walked slowly towards the Vicomte.

Suddenly, the Vicomte rose from his kneeling position, picking up the black-bound bouquet of roses. He turned slowly towards Erik, who stopped his approach as he felt the Vicomte's gaze fall upon him. It was not a gaze of hatred… but it was something that held Erik in place more strongly than any mirror-bound monster. The Vicomte slowly walked towards Erik, holding out the roses. "Erik… help me… help her…" His voice drifted, as with the wind, and Erik didn't know what to do, his mind and soul were beyond recovery, and he just wanted to scream…

"Raoul!" Erik bolted upright, sweat dripping down his face, back and chest. The shock of the dream was almost as strong as what he had just said. "Raoul?.. Christine! Christine…" He lay back down, so confused he just wanted be with his precious Christine. But in his mind he saw Raoul gazing at him, capturing him with that feeling… it was a long night that lay ahead for Erik.

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**Sorry if this seems too serious or boring. Better stuff is coming in the first chapter!**


	2. The Approach

**Thank you to Dancing Coconuts, the only person to review this so far! Whooo!! Not sure if anyone else has read this, but if you have: REVIEW!! (Thank you)**

_Chapter 1: The Approach_

Erik watched through the rafters as Carlotta butchered the song that should have been Christine's: "Serrraphimo yourrra deesguize eez pehrfecta!"

"Grrrr..." He felt like killing her with a noose from above every time she screeched the high notes, but he restrained himself; it was for the better. He had only to wait a while more, then she would croak in a different sense… "Hm heh heh," he muttered to himself imagining the glory to come. He wouldn't let a wart-ridden woman like her sing Christine's part.

He looked around the theater, wondering what to use as a distraction; he needed only to interrupt the performance, and Carlotta would fall into his trap. As he glanced around, he noticed an immediate violation of his instructions: someone was sitting in box five. Wishing to find out who, he began to travel above the theater, grasping ropes and hurrying across catwalks. Joseph Buquet was about, and he had to move along stealthily, or else he might have to kill the man sooner than he would like. On a catwalk above, he slipped right past Buquet, who looked around frantically after hearing the noise. Erik was well past him before he actually looked up.

Once he was finally close enough to get a good view of the box five intruder, he looked through a miniscule crack just large enough to see through. In his box, he saw Raoul de Chagny. His stomach tightened suddenly, and he felt disoriented. His dizziness threw him off balance, his left foot slid out from under him, and he fell backwards off the platform. He felt his sense of cat-like balance return to him in an instant, and caught hold of a rope just in time before plummeting to his death. He pulled himself back up onto the platform, trying to process what had just happened.

He had felt a sudden dizziness and his stomach tightened. Could it be that his hatred for Raoul de Chagny was that powerful? Or maybe…

He stood up again confidently. He had a sudden impulse that he was determined to act upon. Whether it was by his will or the will of a demon that controlled his mind, he didn't care; he was going to do what his heart told him.

(Raoul's POV)

He sat in the surprisingly comfortable seat, laughing at the comedy on the stage. "Maybe this is why that Opera Ghost refuses to give up box five," he thought, smirking. He wondered what could possibly happen because he was sitting here. The whole "O.G." routine was getting very old, and the sooner that Phantom showed himself, the better. Christine didn't want to talk to anyone after her abduction, and he was hurt that she didn't even want him at her side. He shrugged it off, for he knew Christine would greet him with a brilliant smile after the performance.

"Serraphimo, away with this pretense! You cannot speak, but kiss me in my husband's absence!"

Raoul laughed wholehrtedly as their faces disappeared behind the fan, where Carlotta most likely glared at Christine. Just as he saw Monsieur Piangi enter the stage, he heard someone behind him:

"Vicomte..." Raoul looked behind him, but saw no one. Perhaps they were outside the door. "Yes?" he responded.

No answer. Raoul waited for a moment, perplexed, then shook his head. Just as he settled his eyes back upon the stage, he heard again:

"Vicomte..."

He spun around, agitated. "What is it?!" There was what sounded like a sigh before he heard the voice answer.

"Christine is beautiful, isn't she?"

Raoul's patience became thinner. "Who are you? I'll open the door!" The voice paid no heed to his threats and continued with its eerie sound.

"We have something in common, you and I. Maybe we should... be friends." Suddenly, it became clear in Raoul's mind.

"Opera Ghost!"

"That's right..." Before the Phantom could finish speaking, Raoul rose quickly from his seat, grasped the knob, and threw the door open. "Where are you?!"

There was no one there. Raoul looked to both sides down the hall frantically, wanting to catch the ghost, but he had disappeared. Raoul sighed, shaking his head, thinking about how much time that ghost had just wasted toying with him. He turned to go back to his seat thinking, "Now the Phantom will slither back into the shadows, coming out every now and again to pest-" Raoul was paralyzed in mid-thought by the sensation of someone touching him.

He felt two hands grasp his waist, and felt the warm body of someone press against his back. "Raoul... why do you hate me? Have I really been that bad?" Raoul felt a strange feeling overcome him as he felt the warmth of the man behind him, the soft breath whispering across his skin.

"Don't worry... I'm really not so horrible if you let me try." Raoul succumbed to the voice as it ensnared him, pulling him into a trance. He felt so at peace in the Phantom's arms in that moment.

"Give me a chance..." the Phantom lulled as his hands moved up across Raoul's chest. "Just one chance..."

Raoul was suddenly ripped from his trance as he become aware of the situation. He pulled the Phantom's hands off his chest, spun around and threw his fist at whatever he happened to hit.

The Phantom easily dodged such a random attack, smiling a savy grin. Raoul was overcome with a wave of passion as he saw the man before him, looking into his emerald eyes.. He stared at the Phantom like a deer caught in headlights.

The Phantom approached Raoul, took hold of his arms, and slowly lowered his fists. He leaned forward, his face only a few inches from Raoul's. "We will meet again," he said softly, "And I'll be eagerly awaiting that time... Raoul."

Raoul made a cry of disgust, pushing the Phantom away from him. He didn't know what to think anymore but knew he couldn't let any man, let alone a man like that "ghost," approach him like that.

"Maybe you can make more sense of what you're feeling than I can!" The Phantom said, raising his voice for the first time; and with that turned and ran like a wraith from Hell, disappearing in an instant.

All Raoul could do was stand in the hallway, in confused silence... spellbound.

(Erik's POV)

He ran back to his position above the theatre, barely even thinking about what he was doing. All he could think of was that feeling... the feeling of being close to the Vicomte- no, Raoul. He didn't know what had possessed him to do it, but he knew it was the right choice when he looked into Raoul's deep blue eyes.

Erik was confused, wondering what he should do, and if his feelings were true. He knew it was not acceptable by any means to... be attracted to another man. He knew that normally there would be serious repurcussions if he attempted to engage Raoul in romance, but he was already an outcast. "I'll do whatever my soul tells me," he decided. "I'll make him mine."

(Raoul's POV)

Raoul couldn't focus on what was happening for the rest of the night. Carlotta croaking and Joseph Buquet's death seemed insignificant, and passed through his mind like water through a net. As he took the long route to Christine's dressing room, all he could think of was that man's face... his deep green eyes, his smooth skin, and the mask.

All the ghost stories about him were far from true. He was not like a corpse, and he did have a nose, as well as perfect skin. If anything, he was beautiful and sexy...

"No, I can't think like this!" Raoul screamed at himself angrily, thoroughly upset with himself. He had never felt things like this before, and he had never considered it even possible. Of course he had heard of many nobles who had secret affairs with male lovers, but he had considered those stories far out, even absurd. He had never considered that he was... a fairie; he finally articulated the word in his mind. Why else would he be taking the long way around? Secretly, he hoped to meet with the Phantom once again. Raoul suddenly felt something "click" in his heart, something that made everything make sense, and he suddenly remembered all the memories he had blocked from his mind... happy memories of an old friend whom he had loved. He had loved a boy... he had made love to a boy... his teenage sweetheart. Finally, all the memories come rushing back to him.

"Maybe I am a fairie. Maybe I should pursue this Phantom."

**End of chappie uno! More to be coming soon! Please review... I'll be happy!**

**Btw, when Raoul refers to the boy he loved, it would be good if you read my backstory fic about that: "All the Grass of the Field."**


	3. Contemplation and Impulse

**Sorry it took so long to update! I couldn't think of a good way to tell the story I wanted to... but now I've finally got it figured out! I present Chappie dos! Review or die, please!**

_Chapter 2: Contemplation and Impulse_

(Erik's POV)

Erik paced like a madman, his heart racing. He had barely even noticed himself hanging Buquet, for he was thinking too strongly about the Vicomte. What had just happened? What of Christine? He found himself following her and Raoul up to the roof, where they were most likely trying to escape from him. As his eyes settled upon Christine, he knew he still loved her, but... he somehow loved her partner, as well. It wasn't natural, but then again, Erik was anything but natural.

He forced all these thoughts into the back of his mind as he clamboured up the scaffolding towards the passage to the roof. There was nothing to do but follow them and see what happened. On one hand, if Christine and Raoul found happy union, he would be devastated. On the other, if Raoul decided not to pursue her because he miraculously had feelings for Erik...

The Phantom of the Opera was close at hand as the two lovers began talking.

(Raoul's POV)

Christine looked at him with true fear in her eyes. "Raoul, I've been there! I've seen him! His face... veiled in shadow." Raoul felt his stomach lurch. _I've seen him too_, he thought. _Not his face, but I've seen a different side if him that you wouldn't know..._

"Christine..." he said, looking at her beautiful face. He felt freed from the demon in his mind; he had no need for a monster like that man if he had his beautiful Christine.

"But," she continued, "He's beautiful in his own way. In that night, I felt his voice flow through me... and I lived and breathed like never before. You wouldn't believe that voice, Raoul." Raoul longed to hear the voice of his Phantom again.

"Christine, no more talk of this man. What you heard was a dream, and nothing more! This man is deceiving you. He is a murderor! Do not love him! Can't you see... there's someone right here who needs your love."

Raoul felt the sting of his words, but he knew they were true. He may have given in to impulse once, but never again. His fairie past would be absolved once and for all. He reached into his pocket.

"Oh, Raoul. You know I love you. Don't think I would ever let him take me from you." Raoul smiled, and pulled out the ring. Christine gasped, then stood in shock, then laughed gleefully. The whole time, Raoul simply grinned.

"Let us put him behind us, Christine." He meant that for both of them. "Let us join together in bliss." Christine smiled, tears forming in her eyes, as Raoul kneeled before her. "Christine... will you marry me?"

"Of course, Raoul."

They threw their arms around each other, and found each other's lips. They shared one glorious kiss, and all the turmoil dissolved from Raoul's mind for that instant. When they finally parted, Christine took his hand.

"I must go back to the stage: they'll wonder where I am! I've been away far too long!"

"After that, my love, I'll guard you and guide you... forevermore. Now, return to the managers and I'll be watching from my box!" The two of them left the roof, Raoul giving one last backward glance before leaving and closing the door behind him.

(Erik's POV)

He cried. It was all he could do. It was all his sadness flowing out at once. He had lost Christine... Suddenly, the Vicomte's importance seemed utter nothingness compared to the value of Christine. How could he have deceived himself into thinking he wanted that man, the man who had thought of him as nothing but a beast. He was a beast... a monster who deserved no love.

But he couldn't let it happen. He couldn't let them get away with it. He would take her back, that night he would take her down once more to his home.

No... he would take the Vicomte. She would surely do whatever he asked if he had her dear fiancee in his strangling grasp. He got to his feet, climbed up an angelic statue, and sang with all the anguish and anger his heart could feel;

"You will curse the day you did not do... all that the Phantom asked of you!"

That night, there would be nothing to lose. Only riches to gain.

--**--Long pause...**

Erik slipped towards the entrance to Christine's room to find Raoul sleeping in a chair outside. Doubtless to protect from me, he thought. Raoul's thoughts would soon change, however. Erik had done it once in that hallway, and he could once again make Raoul succumb to his impulses.

He walked slowly, silently towards the place where Raoul lay almost waiting for him. He slowly reached one arm under Raoul's legs and the other under his back. Erik then gently lifted his prize into the air, and moved like the Phantom he was through the opera house, eventually reaching a mirror hidden behind a curtain in a corner of the prop rooms. He grasped the curtain with his teeth, not wishing to disturb Raoul, and pulled it aside. He then pushed it in just the right spot, and it revolved to reveal a long, narrow passage. It was one that he barely ever used, but with so many people asleep near his usually spots, he decided this would be the best choice.

Once he finally reached his lair, he layed Raoul upon the same bed that had held Christine very recently. He felt as if he was betraying her, but he knew what his impulses told him to do. It didn't matter how much his logic and deep thought told him not to, he wouldn't listen to them. All that mattered now was Raoul. Erik looked at his beautiful face; his strong jaw; his handsome nose; his soft eyelashes; his long, angelic hair. Standing before this angel, Erik began to sing with perfect beauty...

"Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation,

Darkness stirs and wakes imagination.

Silently, the senses abandon their defenses..."

All thoughts but those of passion were soon to be purged.

(Raoul's POV)

Raoul woke to hear the voice of an angel. He was laying upon a bed of clouds, with this beautiful voice lilting around him.

**Sorry this chapter is so short! I thought it best to feature what happens next as a full chapter, because this one would end up being too long. Also, I would like to take this time to thank my three reviewers: (I'll thank you again at the beginning of Chapter 3)**

**i. Dancing Coconuts**

**ii. quantuminferno**

**iii. darkgryphonmage**

**Thankuverymuchen!**


	4. Defenseless and Silent

**I have one new reviewer since the last chapter! Thanks to all of them:**

**i. trueblood**

**ii. quantuminferno**

**iii. darkgryphonmage**

**iv. Dancing Coconuts**

**After a month of stillness, time to pick things up!**

_Chapter 3: Defenseless and Silent_

Raoul felt the surface under him. Not clouds, as he thought at first impulse, but silk sheets upon an elegant bed. He lay for a moment to savour the feeling, but then suddenly came to the realization of the voice around him. It was his voice; it was the Phantom's. He could hear it... right above him. For the first time since he awoke, Raoul looked up and stared into the beautiful grassy green eyes of his angel.

Erik stopped singing, and gently stroked Raoul's cheek. Panicking, Raoul flung himself to his feet, and backed into a wall. "Stay away from me!" he screamed.

"But why?" the angel asked. "You know that there is no place you would rather be." Raoul felt the words soak in, touching his heart. His throat constricted.

"I have a fiancee, and I wish only to be with her this night." Raoul turned and ran towards the exit of the cave. Erik grasped his wrist, pulling him into an eager embrace. Raoul fought to break free, but the Phantom's strong arms restrained him. When it came down to it, there was no way to leave. He stopped fighting, letting the Phantom's hands slide to his waist. He swallowed nervously.

"What is there to lose from being here... with me? Think to yourself, my vicomte. I have lived a life of misery and solitude for as long as I have lived. I feel no shame from having these feelings that right now sink into us. All I ask, Raoul, is that you share this one night with me. Just one night. And when we kiss, just one kiss. And when we..." He paused.

"Just one night." Raoul finished Erik's phrase.

Raoul felt blood rush to his face. He couldn't move. Just an hour ago he wouldn't have come down here if his very life depended on it, but now he was here... their passions would fuse and merge here. Just one night... impulse took him.

Erik slowly moved his fingertips up Raoul's sides, and brushed a loose strand of hair out of his pretty face. The other hand he slid behind Raoul's head. He leaned in and their lips brushed for just a moment before Raoul pulled back.

"Before this happens... can you tell me... your name?"

The Phantom brought his face back a fraction of an inch from Raoul's, and breathed quietly into his ear; "Erik."

He was surprised as Raoul made the move in and their lips met. Erik's hand grasped Raoul's face, and they both savoured the softness of the other's lips, pushing their bodies together. The arousal began at that moment. There was no turning back now.

Erik moved his hand to his own chest, and removed his black suit jacket. Raoul helped him clambour out of the shirt underneath and Erik, tired of waiting, tore off Raoul's shirt. They threw their arms around each other, and Raoul moved his hand down to Erik's backside. He felt its firmness, and they kissed again, employing their tongues to entwine with each other. Erik began moving down Raoul's chest, licking and nipping his way to the most beautiful abs he had ever seen. Raoul probably would have disagreed, as he had already began stroking Erik's fair chest.

They reached down to each other's waists at the same time, and gave each other a dirty look. They knew what was in mind in their actions. Erik grinned as he felt Raoul's arousal become stronger inside his pants. They simultaneously ripped off the other's pants, and flung themselves onto the bed with Erik laying over Raoul. They gasped as their lengths touched, and Erik kissed Raoul's neck, nibling him softly. He moved down, far down, down to give Raoul heaven.

What happened from there was all a lofty blur, filled with sighs and moans, both of them having reached their most satisfying climax. After cleaning each other up thoroughly, they fell asleep with Raoul's arms wrapped around Erik, floating on the clouds of that bed. They never wanted to be parted.

--

"So what happens now?" They still lay together that morning, but now they only wanted to think and talk.

Erik shrugged. "You love Christine, don't you? I guess... we both do. There's no way this could go beyond last night."

"You're right," Raoul said, a lump in his throat as he spoke the words. "If Christine and I are to be together, there would be no one for you."

"As I have lived for all my life. I want someone. Whether it be Christine or you... I think I deserve someone."

Raoul knew Erik was right, but there was no easy way to end the story happily. "No matter what, someone must be alone. That's how triangles work. If we remain in our current state, the woman we both cherish will be left in lonely tormoil. Not only that, but I will be rejected from society forever." There was a long pause. Raoul realized what he had said.

Erik took Raoul's hand off his chest and stood up, facing away from the man he loved. "Maybe you don't understand..." Erik's voice was low and tense.

"Erik... I'm sorry."

"No, you're not!" He quickly spun towards Raoul. Not once had he taken off his mask during the previous night. "You just won't hear my words, will you?! All my life, Raoul! No compassion anywhere, no kind words from anyone!? You and Christine are my only hope. If you two are together, I will make both of you regret it for as long as you live! I am a MONSTER!!"

... ... There was a silence that seemed to last for decades. Erik's mouth hung upon as they stared into each other's eyes. The space between them seemed to span for hundreds of feet, a never ending void of misery. Raoul's heart fluttered as Erik's eyes began to water. He burst into tears and collapsed onto Raoul's chest. His heavy sobs shook them both, and Raoul stroked his back, feeling more pity than any other man feels in his lifetime.

"Erik. Let me see... let me see your face." Erik sob was suddenly choked. "Please..." The hot tears on Raoul's chest stopped as Erik looked up into his eyes. Behind the mask lay the reason for it all. He needed to see why Erik could not be loved.

"I swear, Erik. I swear, I will not stop loving you no matter what I see. Please..." Another silence stretched between them.

"I don't want pity," Erik spoke softly. "I don't want hatred or disgust. If you love me after I show you what I am... you would have to be an angel from God himself."

"I am your angel, aren't I?" Erik smiled. He nodded and grasped Raoul's hand. Slowly, he moved it up to his face, guiding him along until Raoul's fingers met the cold porcelain. "You must take it off... for I don't have the will inside me to destroy myself."

Erik's eyes widened as Raoul kissed his lips softly.

He took Erik's hand and set it at his side. It was... the moment of truth. Beyond that mask lay the point of no return.

**Hope you all liked it! I'll probably be updating soon, but I don't have a lot of ideas. We'll see how things turn out, I guess.**

**P.S. I love reviewers! I worship their toes every night, trust me!**


	5. The Other Chagny

**So pretty much I have no excuse for not writing. For a while, I was just too lazy to write, then I honestly forgot about it for a bit, but now here I am. While I was gone, I read the original book "Le Fantome de l'Opera," and I've gotten a bit more information for the story. I hope I didn't lose my few fans. So here is Chapter 4 of my long-forgotten story.**

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_Chapter 4: The Other Chagny_

Lifting the cup to his lips, he gently took a sip of the tea, vapors of aroma rising to his nose before he even touched the liquid. The tea was very fine, affordable by only the most bloated budgets. Yet despite its worth, the tea was still a touch too bitter for his tastes. His sweet tooth was almost infamous among his family and friends.

Count Philippe de Chagny sat in a rather ornate room with no windows. A red patterned rug rested in the middle of the room, and the walls were also red-velvet color. One wall hosted a full bookshelf, as did the next. The third bore a small mirror and the framed painting of a countryside. The last wall was bare, excepting the door that sat in the corner and led out into the deserted hall. He sat at a cluttered desk, holding an envelope that bore the seal of a red skull. Monsieur Andre and Firmin stood behind him, hovering nervously over his shoulder.

"So, let me go over this again," he said slowly, standing up to face them. The two managers swallowed nervously. "My brother arrived here before the Gala performance to celebrate with you his becoming the Patron and you becoming proud new managers. However, not all was well. You began receiving notes such as these," he flipped the letter in Andre's face, who recoiled indignantly. "They were all of a threatening nature, most involving a certain Mms. Christine Daae. You obeyed his orders, and after a very ill-fated performance of "Il Muto," it is my understanding..." Philippe took in a deep breath and a vein in his forehead became quite visible. The hear from his eyes made the managers take a quick step back.

"It is my understanding that at this time, my brother disappeared from his room, when not so long ago the very same thing happened to the young Christine Daae. It is also my understanding that, by way of letters my dear brother sent me, he was rather taken with Mms. Daae, and began courting her." Philippe slowly began walking towards the managers. They took in a deep breath, expecting a quick and fiery death. However, he walked straight between them, turned on his heel and put his arms on their shoulders. He leaned in close between them, gesturing for them to come closer, and they nervously did so.

"Now. Monsieurs. It seems to me that this O.G. fellow, whoever he may be, is quite mad. He is also taken with Chirstine Daae, which makes him a natural enemy of my brother. He has taken my brother somewhere, in God knows what condition, and will do God knows what to him. What do you plan on doing about this?"

... ... There was a long pause as the managers thought about what the right answer was, the answer that would keep them alive. "Um..." Andre began to speak. "We should look for your brother and the man behind it?" A quick smack on the back of the head told Andre he was wrong.

"Close! But you didn't quite pin it down. Monsieur Firmin, care for a guess?"

... ... "Uh... we should contact the police and employ them to find the madman and your brother?" Philippe didn't answer. Instead he took his arms from their soulders, and silently headed for the door. The managers looked at each other in confusion. He opened the door, but before leaving said, "I hope the bad publicity won't deter you from getting the authorities involved in this. Keep in my mind that my family is very... very influential when it comes to business." With that said, he stormed from the room, slamming the door loudly, and leaving the two poor men with very few options.

"What a pain," Philippe muttered to himself as he ran to his carriage through the rain. He hadn't expected the people in charge to be such daft idiots. He had assumed that they had already contacted the police, and that he would be helping the investigation. Instead, there hadn't even been a discussion to do anything about the mad man, and they were simply letting him be. Therefore, he resolved to investigate the issue himself.

It honestly hadn't even been his idea to come to Paris and figure out what was going on. His parents had encouraged him (aka threatened him) into leaving his vacation house in Greece and taking the long, annoying, dirty trip to Paris. Although, it wasn't as if he didn't care about Raoul. It was just that he would just as soon have his family's private investigators look into the issue, but it was "elder brother" this and "don't have the money" that. His parents wouldn't admit it, but they didn't exavtly have a lot of money in their coffers at the present. Too much gambling, too much pampering his reckless brother, and too much investing in "the arts." Philippe personally didn't see how either an ugly woman standing on a stage shrieking or a sculpture of a decapitated nude man could be considered "art."

One way or another, he was stuck with the task of finding his brother and catching the man behind the years of extortion and the recent kidnappings at the opera house. He secretly enjoyed playing the role of P.I. and had already done the first few steps towards solving a case: finding out the basic information of the case, learning about the suspect, and speaking to witnesses. Although it was only two witnesses, it was a start. He would have spent more of the day talking with people around the opera house, but that would involve being inside the wretched place. So, he resolved to stop his work for the day and see what could be seen in Paris, maybe boosting his bad mood by going to some of the shops in the area which were said to be imressive. Naturally, as soon as he walked out the door, he knew there was no salvaging his positive adittiude. The pouring rain washed away all hope of cheer.

(Neautral POV)

A man entered the store. This was enough to draw the attention of the shopkeeper. He looked up from the paper which proclaimed "VISCOUNT FOUND MISSING IN OPERAHOUSE," and examined the customer. He was a younger man, no older than 30. He had clear, pale complexion and long blonde hair. He wore a dark casual coat, although it might have just been soaked by the rain. The shopkeep hadn't been expecting any more customers for the day, and had just started relaxing when this peculiar fellow walked in. "Anything I can help ye with, monsieur?" he asked the man, who was glancing around the shop.

"Um, yes... I need some makeup."

The shopkeep sat up and spoke slowly, "Yes, that's usually what folks want when they come in here. This is a makeup shop." The man turned red, obviously becoming aware of how stupid he had just sounded.

"No, I mean..." the man glanced nervously out the window. "It's my daughter, monsieur. My daughter needs it rather severely. She's off in the shop on the other side of the street, and I don't want her to know what I'm doing. You see, she's very ugly due to a massive breakout her face has had recently. Unfortunately, at the same time a very handsome young man from a wealthy family is seeking her hand. He cannot see her face in this condition, monsieur! I need to completely remake it! Do you have any makeup that can disguise even the most hideous of deformities?"

"Aye, I do. But what exactly do you need, aside from some strong cover?" The man rattled off a long list of supplies. The shopkeep turned and went to the storeroom to retrieve as many of the items as he could remember, muttering to himself. He came back with his arms full, and laid the stuff on the counter. "Will this be all, sir?"

"Yes, for now. I'm rather worried, however, that this infection will remain for quite some time, so perhaps we shall see each other again?" The man fidgeted and glanced towards the door for the thousandth time. ahem The barkeep cleared his throat.

"Oh, yes! Money!" The man took out more than enough money in an instant, and placed it in the shopkeep's palm. He then resumed staring out the window. ... ... ...

"Your change, sir?"

"OH! CHANGE! I'll have some of that, sure... I mean..." the man smacked himself across the face. "I'm sorry, I'm rather on edge right now. You can keep the change, monsieur. I'll be on my way now." And so, faster than a hawk diving from the sky, the man took all the products up into his arms and bounded out the door.

The shopkeep sat back down, and flipped open the paper once again. "That's the third one this week," he muttered to himself. "Bloody rich men buying makeup for their 'wives' or 'daughters' or 'mistresses."

_Bloody fairies_, he thought.

--

**Yay for drag queens! Again, sorry for stopping for so long. For those who just found this story a bit ago, sorry for making you wonder if it was abandoned. Hope you enjoyed the new bit, and don't worry: more romance is coming!**


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